Our Separate Ways
by azkabcn
Summary: Sequel to Forever as One. After another argument, John decides to walk. Leaving Sherlock in a broken mess. One-shot. Parentlock.


**This is the first direct sequel to my two-part series: Forever as One.**

'Sherlock,' John hissed, his breath heavy. He had just come back from the supermarket, and was now clutching several plastic bags in both hands.

'What?' I replied candidly.

'Have you just sat there _all morning_?'

I raised an eyebrow. _Here we go again._ 'Does it matter to you, John?' I didn't take my eyes off the newspaper I was reading.

'Of course it matters!' he exclaimed. 'You do know we have a baby sleeping in the next room, don't you? She needs love, she needs care, _she needs attention_.'

'The answer to your question is in your question. Reyna is asleep. She doesn't need attention when she is asleep.'

John growled, letting the bags in his hands drop to the ground. 'Listen, Sherlock. I am sick of your bluntness. Can you not for once just forget that you're a self-centred sociopathic bastard and _be realistic_?'

I looked up at him abruptly. _Did he just…_

But John wasn't finished. 'You just think of yourself, day in, day out. I've been doing all the work in the house for weeks, putting food on the table, cleaning the mess _we both make_ , looking after Reyna and what do you do?'

'I go out and earn money,' I interrupted.

'Yeah, once in a blue moon. It's not like your job is permanent. You get fifteen pounds every few months, sometimes only ten.'

John was frowning hard. His arms were crossed over his chest. With the volume of his voice, I was surprised Reyna was still sleeping.

'You still haven't got a professional job, John. It's very biased of you to say such a thing.'

'Sherlock, who does work for Mr Brignan next door?' he asked me, slipping into his chair.

'You only do it because he can't do anything for himself.'

'He's _ill_ , Sherlock. He can't mow his own lawn, clear his own weeds, cook his own food. At least I get twenty quid a day. That's one hundred and forty pounds per week.'

I leant forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. 'What will happen when Mr Brignan dies?' I saw John flinch but then mask it and roll his eyes. 'Don't look so frightened; it's inevitable. You cannot escape death. Ever. So, as I was saying, what will happen when Mr Brignan's daughter flies over from the other side of Canada to bury him in the ground? Will you continue mowing his lawn for free?'

John glared at me. 'Sherlock, shut up. Just bloody shut up. We all know that you're an emotionless person, that you feel nothing at all, but not all of us are like that. Most of us have feelings. Not all of us can brush death off like it's nothing.'

John sighed and held his head in his hands. I swallowed. Had I just taken it too far?

 _But he called you a bastard…_

Even so, I should have known. John was sensitive. 'John?' I asked.

He didn't reply. 'Listen, John,' I whispered again.

He lifted his head up, his eyes flashing daggers. _This wasn't good._

'No. Sherlock, I'm not going through with this anymore. I can't. I just bloody _can't_.'

He stood up, shaking his head. 'I don't get it,' he sighed.

I stood up as well, walking over to stand face to face with him. 'What don't you get?' I asked him softly.

'No. Don't. Don't act all innocent. You know what I don't get. I don't get _you_. One minute you're all soft and lovely, the next minute you're as blunt and emotionless as ever. I just…' he trailed off, ducking his head.

I took his wrist, unfurling his fisted hands. Time to be as loving as I possibly could. 'John, I'm sorry,' I whispered. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too, Sherlock,' John replied, looking me in the eye. For a second I thought I saw regret flash through his eyes, and thought that maybe, maybe there was a chance that everything would be alright, after all.

But then, 'But I can't do this anymore. It's too late to fix this. We've gone too far down in our arguments… and… and I think it'd be best if we took some time apart. A long time.'

My eyes filled with tears. _No…_ 'What… what do you mean?'

'Come on, Sherlock. Use that intelligent brain of yours. I'm leaving. You can have full custody over Reyna; I don't know if I'll have the money to fully support her, I don't know where I'm going to go.'

'No… Don't do this, John. Please don't leave me. Please,' I whispered, the tears beginning to fall.

 _I messed up._

'I'm sorry, Sherlock. I think this'll do us both good.'

Then I did something I wouldn't have expected myself to do.

I reached over and kissed him. I held him softly at first, giving him a chance to pull back if he wanted to. But he didn't. He held me tighter, his arms setting on the sides of my waist. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. The kiss deepened and I thought that he'd stay. I thought I had won him back.

Then he pulled back. 'Thank you,' he whispered. He didn't smile.

I couldn't help but notice the gap between us. It was massive.

'But it's over. I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm really sorry.'

He turned. 'I'll pack my things and leave now.

'John…' I begged. 'Please… Stay… Please.' Then I sighed. 'I'm sorry, love. I really am. Can we have another chance? Please?'

He shook his head. 'Sherlock, I know how you feel. I've been put in your position before.'

I sucked in a breath, my chest tightening. 'Then why? Why are you doing this? Would you want me to go through the pain you felt?' I asked him softly.

He said nothing. I started shaking. John started walking up to his room. I couldn't comprehend anything other than the fact that I messed up big time.

I stood, shaking, in that one spot for an hour. My legs started aching like crazy but I didn't care. _It was over._

An hour later, I heard the door slam shut with such force that I jumped. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the floor. I held my head in my hands as tears started streaming down my cheeks.

 _I messed up._

 _It's over._

 _He's gone._

 _I'm alone._

 _I'll never forgive myself._

And then, to make matters worse, Reyna started howling. A full on bawl, letting me know that she was in need of food or a nappy change. I very much hoped it was the first.

I had to prioritise her need for assistance over my need to lock myself in a dark room. She came first now. Everything I did revolved around her. Even when it came to breaking up with John.

I stood up shakily, running the back of my hand across my eyes. I exhaled slowly, calming myself down. Reyna continued to cry.

'I'm coming, Reyna,' I called as I bolted up the stairs, two at a time.

I pushed open her door and walked up to her cot. As soon as she saw me, her cries subsided, her face smoothing out into a smile. 'Hey, sweetie,' I whispered, reaching down to pick her up.

I lifted her out of her cot and held her against my chest. 'What do you want, Reyna?' I asked. 'Milk? Fresh nappy?'

She only giggled.

'Alright, fine,' I said, smiling. 'I'll make you your milk, OK?' I took her downstairs to the kitchen and set her in her baby swing. 'You sit there and wait patiently.'

I took her formula milk and a fresh bottle from the counter and reached for her water flask. As I did so, I couldn't help but notice my hands were shaking. I tried to ignore it as best I could, but it was impossible. I ended up making a massive mess.

'Right,' I whispered to myself. 'Calm down. It's OK; everything will be fine, Sherlock.'

Reyna started whimpering. It only annoyed me further.

'Shut _up_ , child!' I yelled.

The look of shock on her face made me pause and think of what I'd just said to her. Her face screwed up and her mouth opened. I knew I had to comfort her, and fast.

I crouched and unclipped her straps. I lifted her up and held her close.

'I'm sorry, Reyna,' I whispered. 'Daddy didn't mean to shout at you. I'm just upset, that's all.'

She looked at me curiously, as if asking what I was upset with. I sighed. 'You can know when you're a bit older, honey. Right now, you're just a tad too small.'

I suddenly wished to be as small as her. Then I wouldn't have to go through the pain I was currently feeling.

I kissed her forehead. 'I love you, Reyna,' I told her.

She smiled, and touched her tiny fingers to my cheek.

 _I love you too._

John.

That wasn't Reyna.

It was John.

John had gotten himself in my head yet again.

* * *

 **Yeesh, that was painful. Being a Johnlocker and writing a scene where Johnlock splits up is harsh.**


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